I've tasted summer this long weekend, and can't stand the thought of going back to real life tomorrow morning. The exhaustion is creeping back into my body, and purple lines are showing up under my eyes again. So, I'm going to bed.
Lately I've been into making collages. I know it's kind of random and maybe a little weird, but I really love pictures. The one above is the only reason why I held onto that issue of Glamour for so long, I guess I find it passionate enough to be beautiful. When I realized I didn't need to keep the rest of the magazine, I destroyed the entire thing with a pair of Crayola scissors and crowded them all onto a scrapbook page. I repeated these same steps with every other magazine in my bedroom, except the National Geographics which I proudly stole from the art room at school. I'll never get bored of flipping through those.
I smell the mud on your tired hands, and honey there's dirt on your sweet lips. I know you tried to hide your heart before you came to hold me close, but there's no use in fear now darling; I died years ago on a Tuesday night, the fires raged and the seas were no escape for us. In weary skin comes weary will, and so I wandered lost til you found me in the dust. But let me warn you I'm still empty, I only stand with the skeleton inside me; I don't know how to love, only lust.